RPlog:Simon Sezirok Meets Markus Lisardis
Coronet Space Port - Coronet City This port is busy, like most, but here the hot breath of takeoff and the deep rumble of engines is closer, more of a feature of the port than an annoyance. The landing pads and small maintenance bunkers sprawl across a large open area open to the sky and surrounded by blast walls to protect the farmlands beyond. Pilots, engineers and techs, mostly natives, move among the hardware as if at home in the confusing and fast paced Port. A large complex off to the side houses control functions, transport authority offices, and the CorSec station. ____________________________________________________________________________ Kacela A rather conservative outfit graces this woman's tall, athletic form. A roughly hewn, off white shirt with a V shaped neck is tucked into a pair of forest green, military style pants. The pants have leather patches on the knees and thighs and the pockets appear to be relatively free of clutter. A soft, light brown nerf hide jacket and boots of the same colour of leather complete the ensemble, giving this woman a clean and somewhat respectable appearance. The only thing that detracts from this is the blaster that is strapped snugly to her left thigh. This tall woman moves around with trained, athletic grace. Her skin is slightly tanned and her features are slight and almost angular, giving her a somewhat exotic appearance. This woman's hair is a little shorter than shoulder length and is black with a very slight indigo sheen. The hair is tied up in a small ponytail at the base of her neck and two longer tendrils frame her face. Eyes of a deep blue, with lighter flecks, shimmer with intelligence and alertness.. and occasionally a cold smile. A rather conservative outfit graces this woman's tall, athletic form. A roughly hewn, off white shirt with a V shaped neck is tucked into a pair of forest green, military style pants. The pants have leather patches on the knees and thighs and the pockets appear to be relatively free of clutter. A soft, light brown nerf hide jacket and boots of the same colour of leather complete the ensemble, giving this woman a clean and somewhat respectable appearance. The only thing that detracts from this is the blaster that is strapped snugly to her left thigh. Mira What can be seen of this woman under the large, grubby cloak that she wears isn't a whole lot. One might be able to tell that she is small and wiry, almost painfully thin. The bottom of the cloak drags on the ground, and looks frayed, as if it has been trod upon often. The hood of the dirty, dusty cloak that she wears manages to throw a shadow over most of her face, leaving it mostly obscured. A clump or two of frazzled, dark hair finds its way out of the cloak's hood to stick out at odd and unnatural angles away from her face. Markus A man in his late twenties, he appears to be a little bit more than six feet. He sports his silver white hair cropped short. The large brown inquisitive eyes, along with his full black eyebrows, seem to be attentive all the time. His skin is a tanned white, along with the hard jaw line and well-defined nose and the short stubs he sports as a beard, give this man a look between a gentleman and a scoundrel. His lips, almost constantly in an impish grin, along with the sparkle on his eyes project a very fiery personality. His body looks to be well maintained and built; strong, and definitely in shape. He is currently wearing a light gray long sleeved shirt. The sleeves folded half up his arms. Over it, he wears a sleeveless black jacket that obviously has seen one too many days. The dark black pants, worn loosely and fitted to perfection, seem comfortable enough in him. Everything is complemented by a set of dark gray boots that definitely have seen better times. Morrison Morrison is tall for a human. He stands 6.5 feet tall and looks like he could use a shave. His features are sharp and stong, his skin bares a rich tan and his eyes are a deep black revealing his strong Kallan decent. His hair is also black and looks as if it hasn't been cut in months, it flips up at the ends (especially around the ears,) and he wears a gray bandanna with a small black sun on his head most of the time. Morrison isn't dressed in the finest of clothing, but he appears to have chosen his garments for their utility and toughness rather than their appearances. He wears a khaki brown campaign shirt made of sturdy nylon with a vest of dyed wool over it. The vest sports a few pockets but looks to be made for warmth rather than protection. He wears his shirt and vest hanging loose over his brown leather gun-belt. Along his belt he wears a holster of brown leather with the grip of a well used DL-44 jutting from it. His pants are forest green and look to be made of a thick wool/synthetic blend fabric. They sport several pockets along the thighs and lace up near both boot tops. His boots are made of sturdy brown leather that have grown dark and smooth with wear. The handle of a superbly crafted Rodian dagger can be seen strapped to the inside of his left boot. ____________________________________________________________________________ STARSHIP: Corellian YT-1300 -- False Dawn arrives with a woosh and slowly settles down on the landing area. Kacela comes down from the ramp of the STARSHIP: Corellian YT-1300 -- False Dawn. Kacela has arrived. Mira has arrived from the Starfire Meridian. Mira has arrived. Amidst the throng of tourists and spacers, Simon stands alone like an small island amidst a river of people. He leans against a signpost covered in posters and pointers toward waypoints, his eyes moving from person to person and ship to ship as everyone goes about their business. His mannerisms reflect those of a local authority monitoring the traffic, yet his dress and coloring places him as an outworlder. Opposite the curiosity he seems to give everyone else, very few people even seem to look his way. Markus has arrived from the Starfire Meridian. Markus has arrived. Among the many ships in the spaceport, there is a quite slick looking YT-1300 that seems to have arrived not so long ago. From the landing ramp of this one, a young man with white hair steps down. "Well... It's been a while, indeed.", Markus states, his previously somewhat grim demeanor being quickly replaced by an air of curiosity. "My pa and I used to come back home a lot, before he started helping at Agamar.", he explains towards his following companion. And then looks back, hiding a small sigh with a cough. His companion was proabably not paying any attention to him. He grins, though, "You take off from here. This is the spaceport...", he says, picking up from where his companion had left off. Peeking out again from the hatch of the sleek YT-1300 comes Mira's head, covered in the hood of her ratty cloak. Her gaze sweeps the spaceport and, apparently satisfied with what she sees, the girl emerges onto the ramp and tags along behind Marcus. Markus was right. She wasn't really listening to what he was saying. She was too busy throwing apprehensive looks about. You never knew where _they_ might be lurking. But so far, it was safe. She hadn't spotted any. And more and more, she focuses in on her companion, just in time to catch the tail end of his chattering. "That's right!" she says, glad that he was paying attention. "You can land here too. And that over there," she says, pointing across the landing pad, "Is the Smugglers' Dig. I'm not allowed there. People there are loud." Like a leaf in a churning river, Simon had flowed from place to place with few choices. Drifting and hitch-hiking leaves the traveler little in the way of choices, but on this last trip, he'd found himself lingering back, moving down paths he'd not gone down before and coming to this place to wait. The rush and pull of other lives around him were no less forgiving than they'd been before, but for the first time in a year, he'd felt like he was back in the deep forests of his home, hunting down a hunter's path. Only... what was he hunting for? At the first sight of the two YT-1300's, different as they were to each other, some inner instinct told him that his waiting was at its end. Like a good hunter, he remained quiet and calm, not moving from his vantage point, even as one of the occupants of the ships ambled toward him. When her eyes flicker to him, he straightens, frowning slightly as he settles his gaze on her rather than the others passing them by. The tall spacer peering at the various messages posted to the board does have some what of an unnerving sinister air about her, but then again this /is/ Corellia and there is a high abundance of scum here. Whatever nastiness might be a part of Kacela is partially hidden by a strange, childlike joy that still bubbles through her as a result of some recent events. A small 'ah hah' escapes her lips as she rips one of the notices from the wall, so much for anyone else wanting to sue it. She peers at the paper again, and a grin escapes her lips. A rare gem and antiquities dealer, just what she needs right now. Kacela neatly folds the paper up and places it in her pocket, she watches, with amusement, the new pair that seem to stand out from the crowd, especially as one points to the Dig.. yes, a drink sounds like a great idea. If Markus has picked anyone up in particular, he doesn't seem to be showing it at all. Perhaps he has been away from Corellia for too long, to properly remember some of the local 'customs'. Instead, thoug, he seems quite focused in the explanations given by the girl in the ratty cloak walking around with him. At the description of the Smuggler's Dig, Markus grins, memories flooding in back into his mind. "Don't worry, you are with me now. If someone gets loud with you...", he makes a fist, smirking. For someone that believed this to be a crazy idea at first, Markus seems to be doing quite well in the 'big brother' role with the girl. He pauses, now taking a good look at his surroundings, as if the Corellian surviving skills had just kicked in, inside the man. He takes in the many beings, making their way arond the area, and frowning a little seems to end up being satisfied at the scan. "Where do you want to go next?", he asks towards Mira. Mira smiles slightly at the fist shaken by Markus. As long as she managed to stay close to him she would probably be safe. He seemed big enough to be able to take care of himself. So the girl tags along behind behind him, glancing around the spaceport curiously now, instead of apprehensively. Upon being met with the rather open ended question, asking what she wanted to do next, Mira quirks her mouth to one side and looks in all four directions, trying to decide. "I want to go over there!" she says, pointing to the bulletin board Kacela had been standing at moments before. And with that, she is off, pushing her way through the crowd in the direction of the board to see the colorful flyers and advertisements posted there. With pursed lips, Simon watches as Kacela pulls a poster from the place he'd been using as a leaning post. His concern isn't for the poster... truth be told, he could barely read it and could care less for what it had to say. In the few hours that he'd spent there this day, none had simply ignored him staring openly at them. Most had diverted their eyes, while others gave back stares that were as angry as his were emotionless. This woman, though... but the answer is obvious. She must be a hunter herself. With his mind still calling up memories of home, Simon turns his attention toward the other two individuals, from the other ship. Could the three be working together for a purpose, as some canids do? Even as he begins to dismiss the thought as some sort of paranoia, he notices the whisp of a girl point in his direction, and the muscles in the back of his neck tense. Settling his feet shoulder length apart, he folds his arms across his chest and waits for this trio... whatever they're intentions be... make the first move. The poster thief begins to glide away from the message board with a silent, predatory gait that no doubt confirms Kacela's suspicions, her eyes find Simon's on her and she returns the stare, not in anger,but it certainly isn't particularly friendly. Kacela has bigger things to worry about than oddly dressed silent young men right now, but there is something about him that she finds intriguing. The again, Kacela hasn't been around a variety of people for a long time, so the sheer diversity is intoxicating. As the whispy girl prances towards the posters, she moves right past Kacela. The tall huntress smirks and she gives the girl a particularly cold and chilly stare, one that seems to ruffle the cloak around her, although the cloak ruffle is only the cause of a ship landing near by and thrusting its gets, of course. Timing is everything. Without waiting to see if her just-a-cold-stare did anything, Kacela wanders out of the starport. Of course, Markus completely misses the look Kacela was giving to Mira. Or he probably wisely decided to ignore it. He simply smirks as Mira leads him around, but does follow her, casting a protective shadow over the girl. As he looks up to scan the area Mira is leading them to, Markus now spots Simon and looks at the other with a very curious expression. "Slow down... ", he suddenly finds himself saying at Mira for some reason. He blinks and deciding the tone he used may scare the girl, he offers a grin. "You are walking to fast for me!", he offers playfully. Slowly, though, Markus brings his gaze back up, measuring up Simon and others that walk by, while reaching out to put a hand on the girls shoulder, as is subtley trying to steer her or hold her in place. "You like boards?", Markus asks, trying to also use conversation, to slow the girl down. While Mira doesn't see the look Kacela is giving her with her eyes, it serves its purpose in sending a shudder up her spine nevertheless. That, coupled with the words, "Slow down," from Markus prompts her to stop in her tracks and throw a nervous look behind her. But as he turns playful, she grins, throwing off the iciness she had felt just moments before. Turning back to the board, she walks, slower now, with his hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, I like them," she replies, happy as a lark. "I was looking at this one before I left. But I didn't get to finish. And I like how they change all the time." Even from here, she notes that there have been several new ads placed on the board. And a few taken down. For a moment, Simon's tension increased. The look Kacela had fixed him with was a glaring confirmation that there was more than dreams and paranoia to the instincts that led him here. For a moment, the young man had felt that chill he'd always associated with the moment before the kill during a hunt, when the danger was at its greatest and a wrong move could put the spear in your side rather than the beast's. And then suddenly, it was gone, and the strange woman was wandering off. Though the girl and her guardian remain, Simon's unease seems to fade somewhat. Something subtle had shifted, just at the edge of his senses. Mistaking the girl's examination of the board as a look toward himself, Simon turns his gaze toward her. Curiosity replaces his hesitant apprehension, and with a wry smile, he bows to the wiry girl, slipping into his old ritual of greeting with his hands clasped in front of him. As he straightens, his eyes flicker to girl's watcher, and he says to both, "Welcome to Coronet City, travellers." Mira gets a smile from Markus, as she explains her feelings on boards. "I guess they are pretty.", he comments, raising up his left hand to scratch his head. "Never thought about it myself, I guess.", he just adds, with a sly grin. And seems about to add something else, when Simon decides to speak. This makes Markus snap his head in the direction, realizing how this move must have looked, he quickly forces a grin to his face. "Thanks. It has been a while.", he offers towards Simon, but makes a point of positioning himself in a better defensive position relative to Mira. The tone of Markus' voice, and something in his accent betray his true origins. He is not a traveller, he is just back home. Mira turns to look at Simon, giving him the same blank look she had given Markus at the Caspian spaceport earlier in the day. A look that wonders what Simon wants and why he is speaking to her. Or even paying attention to her. She stares at him for a few seconds, trying to decide if he was worth responding to. But Markus makes the decision for her and, tossing him a look for reassurance, smiles at Simon and lifts one hand, covered in the cloak that is too long for her, in a brief wave. But she doesn't speak and after another brief blank look, turns her attention back to the board she had been examining just moments before. As wary as Simon has been since coming to this particular starport, it's difficult for the young man to miss the white haired fellow's reaction to his words. His eyes narrow slightly and he cocks his head a moment to study this other. Oddly, this stranger's apprehension in regards to Simon seems to reflect the feelings he'd had toward the woman that had taken the poster and departed. For the span of a heartbeat, the thought of the similarity holds a profound significance. It's slippery, though, and before Simon can consider it further, it fades quickly away like a barely dreamt dream. A wave. That's what he'd learned was the name of the gesture Mira performed then, a watered-down form of one of the many rituals of greeting the vast populace seemed to use. Without any of the hesitation he'd once known a year ago, he returns the wave with a smile, then speaks again, his accent slurring his words together slightly. "A while you've been gone? Perhaps this is your home? You have the bearing that many of those that call this home have." Well, Simon most likely would be right about the way Markus is regarding him. And continues to regard him. The Corellian, to his credit, tries. He tries to look friendly, he tries to smile here and there, like his father taught him, when dealing with some type of people. But at times, he fails miserably, and because of this, he internally sighs. He keeps his defensive posture on Mira, slowly nodding his head at Simon then. "A while it has been, for me at least.", he offers in response, now smiling as he looks at the strangely clad girl. Although not a fashion statement himself, Markus' clothes did contrast a lot with the cloak being worn by Mira. He smiles at the man, deciding that he owes Simon that much for his own distrust of him. "And it is one of many homes, yes. But probably the one home I always return to.", he explains, now frowning in thought. "I take it you aren't from around here yourself?", he throws the question at Simon. A broad, genuine smile spreads across Simon's lips and he emits a slight chuckle. With a shake of his head, he says, his accent still blending his words oddly, "Nay, I am not of this land or any of those that seem to be of this... civilization." The last word is pronounced more oddly than the others, and slowly as though he had to think about each syllable. He continues, "The land from which I was born was known to me as Telgosse, though none that travel the stars have heard the like. It is well to you that you should return to your home. I fear it shall never be so for me." The conversation seems to be easing up some of Markus' tension towards Simon, to the point that he lets go of the girl, in case she wants to wander around a bit, but still makes sure to keep her in constant sight. The response from the stranger is a bit... unexpected and Markus scratches his chin as he tries to swallow it. "Why do you say that?", he asks, not bothering to hide his curiosity. Then the explanation, which leaves him probably even more confused. "I've never heard of it, I admit... But I've spent most of my last years at Agamar... So, I'm not familiar with some of the things going on around the galaxy lately.", he admits, with a soft chuckle. "Telgosse.", Markus rolls the word in his mouth, trying to get the right pronounciation. "Why can't you go back?", the Corellian can't help but ask. The SHUTTLE: Starflyer comes in for a landing and powers down it's engines. The smile on Simon's face remains, but fades into one more sardonic than mirthful. He starts to open his mouth to respond, then turns his eyes toward the signs and posters behind him as if at a loss for words. For the span of several heartbeats, he studies the writing and diagrams, then says, "There are no maps, like these." Light, deep-set eyes turn back to regard Markus, and Simon continues, "Those that you would call my people were travellers, but across land, not the stars or sky. Perhaps I am the only one to have travelled so far from home. Like many children that travel too far off, I am lost." At the word "children", Simon flicks a quick gaze back toward Mira, then returns his attention to Markus. The reaction makes Markus slightly wary again, but he manages to keep the polite demeanor he has shown in the past minutes. He simply nods at first, "Must be hard.", he observes, then internally rolling his eyes at himself. Of course it must be hard. Wasn't it being for so long at Agamar for himself? Agamar became home, but it could never replace Corellia in his heart. He makes sure again, that Mira is close enough, before continuing. "I'm sorry... I don't think I could understand how you must feel.", he finally admits, looking down. People seemed to be picking up the habit of shooting down his dashing Corellian demeanor, and it was starting to bug him. "But why?", he is prompt to ask, "Why did you leave? How did you come here from that place...", he looks back at his ship, wondering... but for now decides against it. Picking one lost being from a planet was enough, and that definition was already satisfied by Mira. STARSHIP: Trianii RX4 Patrol Ship -- Regulator II arrives with a woosh and slowly settles down on the landing area. Morrison emerges from the Trianii RX4 Patrol Ship -- Regulator II. Morrison has arrived. A bubble of anger rises up in Simon as he initially misunderstands the nature of the question. The question is too close to 'Why were you forced to leave?' He draws in a quick, deep breath through his nostrils as he purses his lips and considers how to answer this question that cuts sharply and savagely to his marrow. The pause gives him a moment to reconsider the question, and his agitation quickly fades. He lets the breath out slowly, then says with a slight grin, "Yes. Why I left Telgosse. It was curiosity, as it were. Why does the warbeast cross the hill? To see the other side, as the old saying goes. A craft landed near where I was meditating, and I found myself taken up in a journey that took me far from the place of my birth." Another thoughtful pause, then with a tilt to his head, he asks, "Why did you leave your home?" The reaction from Simon at his question, is completely lost on Markus. However, for some reason he can't even explain himself, he finds the need to make sure Mira is alright. Quickly doing that, he goes over the explanation. He tries to follow it, and believing he's got it, the young white haired man nods his head. Then the question is returned, and Markus bows his head. Good question. Why hasn't he returned after so many years. "My father was a... pilot. A freelancer like myself.", he offers. "We travelled a lot... But we ended up at Agamar, a planet almost at the edge of the galaxy.", he smirks at the thought. But why didn't he return? "The place became home for me, I guess. My father... was captured by the Imperials during the war.", a pause and the Corellian looks sad then, "I never saw him since them, I've been looking for him." Yes, that more or less sums it up. But was that the reason? The Regulator is as elusive as its master. It slips into the spaceport with a quiet rush of air and a dull roar of repulsorlifts. It settles in a nearby docking berth. A minute or two passes before the door opens and a tall dark haired man smoking a thin white cigarella steps down. He looks much plainer than his ship, but his wide shoulders and sun darkend face reveal him to be a man that is much more at ease with his feet on the ground. "Tis a far nobler cause than wanting to see the other side of the hill," Simon says. He pauses to watch yet another ship enter the busy area, but turns back to Markus before the hiss and sigh of the airlock can let out its passenger. He casts a glance toward the white haired man's ward, the wiry girl that seems to be oblivious to their conversation as she continues to oggle the colorful posters and signs at hand. He says, thoughtfully, "Perhaps you are helping her find her father as you had looked for yours? You do not look as kins." The two men, Simon and Markus continue in their talk at one of the bulleting boards in the spaceport. Markus tilts his head, following Simon's gaze as the newly arrived ship lands. His attention quickly returns to the man, that for some reason had triggered all those alarms in his head, yet now he finds the other's story fascinating. As the subject turns towards the girl, Markus' face softens. "Perhaps... I don't know. I'm not the kind of guy to pick up street kids, you know.", he smirks, shaking his head. "I found her at Caspar, when I was making my way around the galaxy. For some reason, I felt an attraction to her of some sort. I felt like I should help her...", he pauses, now smiling. "She is from Corellia too, you know? I don't know about her family. But I never had a brother or sister...", a loud chuckle now. "So I guess I've grown fond of her. Her name is Mira.", he introduces, looking now directly at Simon's eyes. "I'm Markus Lisardis." The dark haired man looks rather casual and at home in the large spaceport. His clothing looks straight from the Rim, but the ship speaks a story other-wise. He makes his way toward the spaceport with a handful of papers. He passes through the crowd with a strut bemoaning confidence. He glances at the group and the young woman. His dark eyes evaluate everything and take nothing for granted. He steps into the small line of spacers waiting to register their craft with the Port authority. As he'd done previously, Simon slips into his old customs with the introduction. Placing his right fist into the open palm of his left hand at chest level, Simon bows at the waist to Markus, keeping his eyes locked on the other man's countenance. As he straightens, he drops his hands once more to his side and says, "I am Simon Sezirok, at your service." The motion and words are spoken in such a way as to give it an air of formality, while also seeming as if Simon had gone through such motions many times before. When Simon speaks again, his outworld accent continues to slur his words together oddly. One might guess that that man's native language was almost songlike from his accent. "Sometimes kinship is made of that which is stronger than blood. Perhaps you are bonded to Mira." Well, there is nothing formal about Markus. From his clothes, to the way he handles himself. In this case, though, he tries his best to look the part and nods his head solemnly. He seems about to say something, but deciding silence is better than making a fool of himself, he tilts his head for a moment looking in the general direction of the line of spacers some distance away, his gaze briefly passing over the dark haired man that just arrived, the same with many others. It is then that the words offered by Simon strike Markus. "Perhaps...", he comments, wondering. "I didn't think of it that way.", a wide grin and a chukle. For some reason, the idea of having this little sister appealed to him. For a long time, he has been by himself. "Your people must be quite wise, if you are the norm.", he comments. No flattery behind the tone, just a sincere statement. Then, Markus frowns, as he reaches into his pocket coming out with a chrono unit. "Damn. I should get going. I'm not sure how long we are staying in Corellia...", he starts, bringing his brown eyes to look at Simon again. "But if you need anything, you can probably find me around here.", a pause and he turns around, pointing in the direction where his ship is landed, some distance away. "That's my ship. The White Ghost. I don't think I would be able to fly you home, but I can try to help you, regarding information on this place.", a short pause and a grin, "As soon as I manage to get updated myself.", and the man grins at that. "Good meeting you, Simon Sezirok." He then searches for Mira, who continues in her quest to study the board. "Lets go, Mira.", tells the girl. "You need to continue showing me the place." Morrison comes back down the ramp toward the ships. His hands are shoved deep into his pockets and his black eyes aren't as comfortable as they once were. He just has to trust in his forged papers. He walks back toward his ship when he notices the group looking at the bulliten board. He walks that way out of curiosity to see what they're looking at. The girls eemed fastinated enough with the collection of posters and fliers. Simon still considered Basic as the Secret Tongue of the _Selas_ Brotherhood, even after hearing it spoken from nearly every being he'd encountered since leaving his home planet. He'd become much more fluent, for all intents and purposes, but times still arise when it takes him a few moments to decipher the full meaning of statements. It's for this reason that Simon initially misses the extent of Markus's generous offer, and fails to respond before the man turns to confer with the girl. When he does finally speak, the words initially come out hurried. "Your nobility sings, Markus Lisardis. Perhaps the day will come when I may help you as you have offered to help me. May you always find the True Source." The words are a bit too high for the Corellian, perhaps, but he gathers enough to know the meaning, and bows his head. Deciding that he would probably make a fool of himself, if he tried to match words with the obviously very well educated man, he focuses on once more following Mira, before she gets lost in the crowd. Simon Sezirok Meets Markus Lisardis